


Water-Logged Lungs

by spotty_lion



Series: Final Fantasy Shenanigans [19]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, mentions of Urianger/Cid/WoL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22057234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spotty_lion/pseuds/spotty_lion
Summary: He could not say goodbye yet.Not when he had only just said hello again.
Relationships: Urianger Augurelt/Warrior of Light
Series: Final Fantasy Shenanigans [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1135331
Kudos: 10





	Water-Logged Lungs

‘ _ Where is he _ ?’ 

It grew to be a chant, a question that escaped into the air on every shudder that came from his lungs, that rippled through him on every beat of his heart, that made his hands tremble and ache with every second that he wasn’t touching soft fur.

‘ _ Where is he _ ?’

The words began to make his tongue sting, make his teeth bruise. They wrenched his jaw open for bitter lake water to flood his mouth, drowning him with his terror and his worry. 

‘ _ Where is he _ ?!’

He grew desperate, as his eyes prickled with rain, as mist started to claw at his vision. And drowning buttercups could do little else but look out over the same unresponsive corpse of lake.

‘Jack… Jack,  _ please _ …’ he begged, quaking voice falling upon the surface of the water, becoming little else than the lily pads and the reeds.

He could not say goodbye yet.

Not when he had only just said hello again.

He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t fail. 

Fail to protect him in this strange land. Fail to keep him safe. Fail to see him to the end of this journey. Fail to take him home. 

Three years he had been amongst pixie dust and bright flowers. Three years he had been answering riddles and partaking in trickery. Three years he had been perfecting his lies.

Three years he had been alone.

Three years without Jack. Three years without Cid. Three years without a kind hand to hold his. Three years without soft fur against his skin. Three years without gentle hands cupping his jaw. 

Three years without that glow of love and care. 

He had known the gnawing starvation of touch before. And then Jack had sat with him during stormy evenings, sat with him on a sandy rock. And he had not been afraid to reach out and touch, to lay his hands upon that which many people had not. And then Cid, upon seeing his face, had cupped his jaw, traced his cheekbones, slipping and slipping further down the deep pit of adoration.

Jack and Cid had not let him feel starved anymore. Their smiles, when he reached out in desperation for their touch that first time, were radiant, and made him want to keep reaching. 

And then three years had passed without them. Three years had passed where his body had  _ ached _ for their hands and their embrace.

He had only just, mere days ago, gotten to feel that again. Mere days ago, the gnawing wolves, with their dark fur and their pale eyes, had stumbled, had released his arms from their jaws, while large hands had held him again, chest warm against his cheek. But they lingered, their stench hovering around his neck, waiting for a chance to lunge back in and feast.

He couldn’t let them. 

The water was mocking, sharp stripes of light bouncing off of the surface like the sun glinting against a blade. It looked back at him, standing there with the hem of his robes heavy with stale glass, holding onto the person he wanted -  _ needed _ \- the most, knowing that he could not reach out to get him. He could not enter the deep water, could not dive to the very bottom and tear at the mud until his hands were splintering. 

The lake knew this.

And it laughed at him for it.

His jaw was clenched, his bruised teeth and swollen tongue screaming, crying out for anything.

_ No news was good news _ , people said. Not today, not now.

He heard splashing.

His heart leapt.

He looked up to greet the sound.

His eyes stung as he saw Alisaie. Alone. 

‘Nothing!’ she snapped, frustration falling from her mouth. ‘I’ll have to go back in.’

‘Nay, my lady,’ Urianger said, his throat aching, voice trembling as he said it, as he asked her to  _ give up _ . ‘Thou hath exhausted thyself. Would that I could…’ He trailed off as a hand grabbed his throat, a hand of reeds and scales, choking on his fear.

‘All of us know that, if you could, you would have been the first in there to find him,’ Thancred said, tossing a sad glance towards the elezen.

His words were met with agreeing nods. But Urianger didn’t want them. 

He wanted to go into the lake. He  _ needed _ to. But what good would that have done, for him to flail around in the water, to spend more time panicking than searching? 

Zelda put a hand on his arm. ‘He’ll show up,’ she said, ‘I promise.’

His skin prickled at her touch. How badly he wanted to swing around and scream at her, tell her that the lake could be suffocating him as they spoke, that the spirits of the seaweed could have reached into him and stolen his soul, that he could not spend another minute knowing that he was not with them. But instead—

The elezen took a breath and nodded. ‘Thou speaketh the truth,’ he said quietly, eyes still fixed on the still surface of the water. ‘He shalt… emerge soon.’

The lake held its tongue, kept its secrets, concealed any signs of Jack returning. None of them left the bank, though many began to talk amongst themselves of the next obstacle, of the Lightwarden of Il Mheg, of the king, of Titania. All of them felt the looming presence of the wings that bloomed from the side of the castle.

But Urianger did not leave the shallows. His robes and shoes were wet, heavy still with the glass stuck in the material. But still he did not move. Even when he started to shiver from the chill of loss.

He worried not for the water choking him, filling his lungs until he coughed and spluttered. He worried for the other dangers beneath the surface. He worried for teeth made of coral and reed, or claws made of shell and rock, shredding past fur and muscle, blood and bone, getting to soft stomach and splintering ribs beneath.

Here, in the shallows, his back to the rest of the group, his tears could fall without prying eyes.

And  _ then _ —

Glimmering jaws yawned wide to allow its quarry to crawl free.

Urianger nearly fell as he hastened to the dark shape. Desperation guided his feet, while hope clutched at his breath. 

‘Jack?’ he called. An ear flicked in answer. ‘Jack!’

He fell to his knees beside the hrothgar, who was breathing hard and coughing up the itch that the water had left in his chest. His fur was heavy with the water, that same glass sticking into his back. His muscles shivered with cold and he leant into the warm hands of his boyfriend.

‘Hey,’ he groaned.

‘Oh,  _ Jack _ ,’ Urianger whispered, ‘how  _ worried _ we were… how worried  _ I _ was.’

Jack shook his head, droplets of watery glass falling from strands of fur. ‘Well, I’m here now,’ he said, grinning as he saw his boyfriend wiping water from his face. ‘So you don’t have to worry anymore, okay?’

He could not help it; all of his relief and anxiety spilled from his mouth into the hands of someone that he trusted it with. ‘I… I thought I was going to lose thee.’

His words were met with a firm nuzzle from a wet nose. ‘Don’t talk like that,’ Jack said. ‘I’m going nowhere.’

Amongst the stain that had been left from the lake, the water clogging up his fur, Urianger’s tears were hidden, concealed as if they were not there.


End file.
